Projecting Our Images in Space and in Time
by planetofmars
Summary: Prompt fill for the avengers tables: Trust issues.


**Title: **Projecting Our Images in Space and in Time **  
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**Author: **Keelover/Planetofmars

**Pairing: **Steve/Tony.

**Summary:** Prompt fill for the avengers_tables: Trust issues.

**Word Count: **7,674

**Universe:** 616.

**Rating:** NC-17.

**Warnings:** Superheros getting it on.

**Projecting Our Images in Space and in Time**

Tony Stark doesn't trust easily, or at all for that matter. This fact normally doesn't faze him, but today is a different story. Tony is transfixed on his inner boundaries instead of the drab paperwork that rests in front of him. One o'clock is vastly approaching, yet Tony can't pull himself together.

The door to his office opens, no knock, no warning, and Tony knows by the distinction that it's Pepper long before the woman comes in to view. Pepper, Tony thinks, is a good standing point when it comes to past mistakes. "Let's go get lunch," she says, arms crossed loosely in a casual manner.

Tony's brows furrow slightly, but he moves to his feet nonetheless. Tony doesn't have the best record when it comes to people. People don't trust him, and he's never given them a chance to.

"What's wrong with you?" Pepper questions, twirling her pasta upon her fork. Tony regards the woman warmly, bitterly as he dwells on what he's put her through over the years. She still remains, and Tony wonders why that is.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing," Tony states, taking the cowards way out. Tony isn't that hungry, and spends the next forty-five minutes dwelling on mistakes he's committed over the years.

Pepper keeps a heavy eye on him, but says nothing further. Upon returning to his office, Tony's thoughts drift from past mistakes to past betrayals, and the aftertaste leaves a certain bitterness no amount of overpriced water can rid of. The sheer amount made his heart ache and fist clench.

Tony has had his fair share of less than noble deeds, but he has also been burned more than once over the course of his life. The old acquaintances, so-called friends, and love interests each taking a piece of him with them. Tony's cellphone begins to ring, interrupting his thoughts.

"Hey, Steve," he greets, the heaviness in his chest a little easier to bear.

"We still on for that walk?" Steve questions as Tony reaches for his coat.

"Yeah, meet you there in thirty?"

"Thirty it is."

Steve has never betrayed Tony, not in the sense Tony is currently thinking over. If anything, Tony had betrayed Steve, and the thought rolls continuously around in his head. The mistakes he had made and the betrayals he had suffered all fed into his distrusting nature, but they weren't the core of it.

Tony stuffs his hands in to the pockets of his overcoat; New York is still rather cold this time of year. A new year, tony reminds himself. A new year to do better, or fail worse.

Central park is dull as Tony selects a bench. The wind whirls around him, ruffling his hair. Steve arrives a few minutes later, on time, and with a smile to his face.

"Come on," Steve says, hand extending to the still sulking man. Tony takes the offered limb, walking side by side with Steve as the day drags on. For the most part, no conversation is had, not until the two of them stumble upon a family feeding a lone duck.

"Why is it so great to feed ducks with your kid?" Tony asks, hands still deep within his pockets, nose red and cheeks pale. Steve scolds him for not wearing gloves.

"They're bonding, Tony. Doesn't matter _what_ they're doing as long as they're doing it together," Steve says, engrossed with the sight in front of him.

Tony doesn't understand that, not well at least. The mother would hand the girl a piece of stale bread to feed to the duck, and the girl would shriek and giggle as the duck took it. The parents would smile, and then repeat the action. Tony sighs, he has never been able to connect with people in the same sense he has with technology.

Steve wraps an arm around Tony's shoulder as the two men move on. Steve places a kiss to the top of his head for comfort. Tony calls him a sap, but presses his body closer anyway.

Tony's mind is a bit of a mess right now, but Steve is so open and comforting that Tony nearly forgets. Steve's eyes are kind as he invites Tony in, and the other man can never decline. The light touches transform into passionate caresses, light kisses to passionate tugging of teeth.

"I like you with less clothes," Tony murmurs, one hand splaying across Steve's bare abdomen as his other one trails neatly up and down the length of Steve's neck. Tony sort of loves Steve, and that, he finds, is sort of the problem. Steve trusts Tony, trusts him, and Tony doesn't know if he has it in him to do the same.

"Are you gonna help me with my pants, or just stand there staring at the wall behind me?" Steve questions.

"Sorry," Tony murmurs, hands working efficiently to remove Steve's jeans. Tony presses a kiss right below Steve's left ear, a sensitive spot, working his way down and across his chest. Steve's hands are above his head, weary of his own strength. Steve works very hard to maintain control of his body, and not to hurt his partner. Tony is on his knees, hands ready to strip Steve of his briefs when their communicators go off.

"Great," Tony mumbles as he pulls his hands away. Steve's cheeks flush as he steps aside, leaving Tony in the middle of the hallway.

Tony stands to his feet begrudgingly, nothing to ruin a moment like complete and utter chaos on the streets of New York. Steve's dressed in a matter of minutes, persona completely Captain America, and Tony idly wonders how he's able to quell his hard on underneath such a thin layer of material.

Tony hates magic, he really doesn't, but more than that, he hates Doctor Doom. Still, Tony's mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Steve, and his inability to trust. Steve would realize, sooner or later, just how awful Tony is and leave.

"_Iron Man_, watch out!" Jess cries, but it's too late. Tony's armor is suddenly rendered useless, and that's just great.

Tony absolutely detests not being in control. He is unable to move, and susceptible to any attack that Doom may throw his way. Tony's arms feel heavy, heart racing as he fights violently to move.

Tony hates not having control, especially over his own body. Something very large and very explosive heads in his direction, but Steve is there, quicker than Tony's eyes can adjust, throwing his shield at the same time he shoves Tony back. Tony topples over and to the ground, no mobility to soften the blow. Tony bites his tongue the same time his helmet hits the concrete, head bouncing.

"Are you okay?" Steve questions, peering down at him. The sun is just about gone, and they're no where near resolving this. Steve is always there for him, always has his back, and Tony doesn't understand _why _that's so difficult to grasp.

"I can't move," he grits out, mouth timid to speak further on the matter.

"We'll see what Billy can do," Steve says reassuringly, bending down to pat Tony on the shoulder.

"Oh great, the kid's are here."

The sky is a mixture of orange and purple, wind something to be remembered. Tony can't feel the cold directly, but imagines what it might feel like outside of his armor as his eyes take in the rising steam from the gutter to his right. Tony's mood shifts eerily from panicked rage to a more settled form of wafting loneliness.

Tony, in every aspect of his life, has always been in control, even during his darker periods. That control stems towards his sexual appetites, _even_ if he bottoms, Tony is still the one in control. Steve, by all intents and purposes, doesn't seem to mind, and the matter is never discussed. Tony controls everything, has to control everything, and wonders if it's that control that leaves no room to trust.

"Tony," Steve calls, and Tony realizes that his eyes are shut.

"Yeah, Cap?"

"You should be able to move now, if what Billy did was right," Steve says.

"Hey, it _should_ work! What great faith you have in me, Cap."

"I have faith in you," Hulking says, and though Tony can't see them, he bets they're disgustingly cute.

"Thanks, Teddy."

"Wait, I didn't say that I don't have faith in you, Billy, it's just you've never done this before."

Tony sits up, dazed and slightly confused. "He's Captain America, kids, he believes in everyone. I, on the other hand, am pleasantly surprised to still have all of my limbs intact. Thank you, Billy," he mutters, standing to his feet. The Doom-bot is taken care of, and Tony didn't have to do a thing.

The young Avenger grins at Tony with a spark the elder man wishes he still had. "You're welcome," Billy says, Teddy's arm slung over his shoulder, completely ignoring the damage inflicted on the lower east side.

"I need a shower," Tony excuses himself, amazingly still half hard.

The rest of the evening proves uneventful. Tony can't sleep, but he also doesn't have the concentration needed to work on anything of use. Tony sits at the kitchen table, staring down at a mug of coffee gone cold.

This issue of not being able to trust is getting under his skin. Tony's mind goes back and forth, resides in the past before moving forwards towards the possible future. Tony can't take much more of this, has wasted an entire day dwelling on the matter.

After much debate, Tony finds himself at Steve's apartment, knocking on his door. Steve answers, dressed in a pair of silk shorts, his hair shuffled to one side. Tony almost feels bad for waking him, almost.

"Tony, do you know what time it is?" he questions, sleep-filled eyes adjusting.

"Actually, no," Tony states as he steps inside, looking disheveled and out of place.

"You okay?"

"No," Tony answers as he pulls Steve towards him, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his unique scent. Something timeless.

Steve doesn't question him, simply works to remove Tony's heavy overcoat and layered tee shirt. Steve's apartment is comfortably warm, Tony notes as Steve mouths at his collarbone. Tony sighs a little helplessly, regaining enough of his senses to realize Steve still has his shorts on. Steve smiles hazily as Tony's hands grabs a hold of the material, yanking them down in one fluid motion.

Steve kicks his shorts out of the way at the same time Tony begins to palm him through his briefs. With Tony's pants around his ankles he nearly trips, depending on Steve for balance. "How do you want to do this?" Steve asks, and a low groan emits from Tony's throat.

The two make their way to Steve's bedroom, Steve lounges comfortably on his bed as Tony works to make up his mind. The control resides in his hands, and tony knows very well how far he can go with Steve, how far he has gone with him in the past. "I want you on the edge of the bed," Tony decides, voice even as he moves towards Steve's dresser.

Tony is not in the mood for foreplay, he's far too pent up for anything less than Steve's dick inside of him. Steve gets the message, loud and clear, and while the lust never fades from his eyes, Tony can sense a hint of disappointment. Tony bites down on his cheek, he doesn't want to discuss it, not now.

Tony zones in on Steve, teeth catching his bottom lip as his arms wrap around his neck. Steve's hands clutch eagerly at Tony's hips, trailing down to his thighs before raising him up and onto his lap. Tony's whole body shivers and quakes, hands moving quickly to spread the slick substance over his fingers.

Tony knows it's not fair how Steve has to hold back because he can't let go. The thought is still there in the back of his mind as he guides himself down onto Steve's length, body clenching tightly around the sudden intrusion. Steve lets out a small grunt, stomach clutching as Tony begins to move.

"Oh," Tony chokes, head tossed slightly to the side as Steve grabs a hold of his hips, raising Tony up before guiding him back down, following Tony's lead.

Tony's hands grip the back of Steve's head, pulling him down for a debauched kiss. Each thrust and stroke of his hand brings them closer, bodies slick as a thin layer of perspiration covers them both. Tony slams his hips down at the same time Steve thrusts up.

"Fuck! Just a little," Tony screams, fingers digging into Steve's shoulders. Tony knows Steve can't bruise, but he tries anyway.

Steve raises him a little higher, thrusts a little deeper, fucks him a little wider in his attempt to drive Tony over the edge. The move is successful, always is, and Tony releases all over his hand. "You're...you're amazing," Tony huffs as the two disentangle themselves.

"Yeah?" Steve breathes, boyish grin to his flush face.

"Yeah," Tony whispers, biting gently at the other mans jaw before standing shakily to his feet. Steve always makes him feel this way—unstable. Tony proceeds to clean himself up, discarding of the used cloth in to one of Steve's hampers before fetching another one. Tony takes a certain pleasure in cleaning Steve up; it is as awarding as it is sensual, and it serves to relax him.

Steve settles in to bed as Tony strokes his hair and places a kiss to his temple. Tony won't stay, he hardly ever does, but Steve never seems to mind. In fact, he appears rather alright with Tony coming and going as he pleases.

Tony says his goodbyes, and Steve falls asleep. Steve trusts Tony enough to let him go, secure in the fact that Tony will always come back, and Tony always does. The dim street lights trail along Tony's back, cold weather present at every step.

Three days later, and Tony finds himself clashing it out with a group of mutant bank robbers. The right wing of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York crumbles as a loud explosion sounds. Tony notes that one of the falling items amongst the debris just happens to be Steve. Tony's stomach churns as Steve propels downward, and he had no time to think as he rockets after him. Steve appears more concerned about his shield than he does about crashing head first on to the unforgiving ground, tucking it under his arm.

Tony is barely able to catch him, and all he receives for his efforts is a simple thanks before Steve charges back on in to battle. Steve doesn't like bullies, and he most certainly doesn't like people who take things that aren't theirs. Bank robbers aside, Tony has some choice words to say to Steve.

"You do realize you almost splattered face first into the concrete, right?" he questions because he needs to be sure that Steve understands his own stupidity.

"Are you all right, Spidey?" Tony overhears Jess question, to which Peter obtains that he's fine with the exception of a loud ringing in his ears. A sound blast from a preteen girl will do that to you, Tony figures.

"Hawkeye, gather everyone up and get back to base," Steve orders, and Clint complies with a mock salute and a quick, "Yes, sir!"

Steve flashes Tony a small smile when everyone has up and left. "I'm aware I could have gotten hurt, but you caught me, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but what if I hadn't?"

Steve places a hand on Tony's shoulder, locking eyes with him. "I trust you with my life, Tony," he says seriously, turning to asses the damage done.

Tony stares after him, knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Steve trusts him, Tony already knows this, but it has never been so blatantly confirmed before. The aftermath shuffles along in a blur.

Tony retires home, takes a scolding shower, and thinks about what this all means. Steve and Tony's relationship isn't built upon solid ground, at least it hadn't been. Steve doesn't _need_ Tony, not like he use to. Steve merely _wants_ to be with him, and trusts that Tony feels the same way.

And there was that damn word again..._trust_.

Tony can't control the way Steve feels about him, or the way he feels about them as a couple. Tony can't make Steve see reason, and the lack of control has him spiraling. Often, when Tony seeks to destroy something, especially something he both loves and cares for, he does so with little to no trouble.

Steve is making it fairly clear, in his own way, that he isn't going any where. Tony doesn't sleep that night, doesn't even shut his eyes. Tony's mind is completely absorbed, and it's unsettling.

The following day proves uneventful, and by nightfall, he invites Steve over to watch a movie. Steve accepts, feet propped up on the coffee table, Tony's head in his lap as they watch The Lord of the Rings. It's not the first time the duo has watched the trilogy together, and Tony doubts it'll be their last.

The two lounge in casual clothing, Steve absentmindedly munching on popcorn as Tony methodically thinks back on the past few days. "Hey, Steve," Tony calls out, immediately catching the others attention.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Love you," he murmurs, nose buried in the throw blanket covering Steve's lap.

Steve smiles in a goofy sort of way, and Tony has the sudden urge to hide and never reemerge. "Love you, too," Steve chimes casually, like it's no big deal to look Tony in the eye and proclaim that he loves him.

Tony rests his head upon Steve's lap once more, eyes focused on the floor. People have always had a difficult time in caring for Tony, let alone loving him, so why was it so easy for Steve to do so? Maybe it isn't, Tony thinks.

Tony and Steve end up falling asleep on the couch, sleeping well past Tony's alarm clock. Tony is late for a business meeting, he knows, but he has never felt as peaceful or as restless in his life. Steve brings up a lot of complicated feelings within him, and today is no exception.

The meeting Tony finds himself forty minutes late to is important, or so Pepper says, but Tony can't bring himself to focus on the heavy set young man sweating up a storm during his presentation on global warming, or something. Steve trusts him, but does he know that Tony can't do the same? The pang of guilt that simmers in his chest is sudden and painful.

Tony trusts Steve, doesn't he?

"Mr. stark, do you agree?" Thomas, Timothy, _someone _ asks, and Tony merely stares at the old man with the pencil thin mustache.

"Hm?" he huffs, sitting up in his chair.

"Mr. Stark agrees, Charles," Pepper intervenes, and Tony knows that his head is about to be mounted to the wall in her office.

"What is the matter with you, and don't you lie to me," Pepper demands, long after the meeting has come to a close.

Tony glares at the woman before relenting. "I don't trust Steve."

"...Okay?"

Tony shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I want to," he says. "I just don't know how to."

"That's interesting," Pepper responds a little dejectedly.

"Really, Pep, that's all you've got to say?"

Pepper proceeds to kick Tony right in the shin, causing the man to hiss and curse under his breath. Pepper appears deep in thought, feet to herself. She finally makes eye contact, small quirk to her full mouth.

"You always need to be in control, don't you?"

"Basically," Tony admits, a bit desperately.

"You want to give up that control, right? Allow Steve to take over, _trust _him to not hurt you."

"Yes," Tony says begrudgingly.

"How about a literal solution to your problem?" she inquires, brow lifted as she waits for Tony to catch on.

"What are you getting at?"

Pepper sighs. "Handcuffs, Tony, or rope...some sort of binding."

Tony's mouth unhinges. "You're telling me that I need to let Steve cuff me to my bed, and fuck the trust into me?"

"No." Pepper says. "I mean, you let Steve handcuff you to your bed, and _trust_ him to do what you both like. Sex would be a added bonus."

Tony stares at her for a long moment, allowing her words to digest. "You're really serious, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm completely serious," she answers, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Tony has always been fairly certain he has no shame once so ever when it comes to just about anything, and for the most part that's true, but the flush that is creeping steadily above his collar says otherwise. Tony scolds himself, he could have ordered a pair of handcuffs discreetly off the internet or hell, he could have made a pair of his own, but no. A high end sex shop on a Tuesday afternoon appears barren with the exception of some unusual looking people going about their business, and unfortunately trying to be helpful.

Tony would count his life as blessed if he could spend his remaining years left on this Earth not discussing choke chains with a man no younger than sixty-seven, and even that number was being gracious. "First time, right?" asks a young woman in her mid to late twenties. Her name tag reads Amy, but Tony is distracted by her vibrant pink hair and septum piercing.

"Yeah," Tony responds, attempting to sound casual but only succeeding in sounding forced. Amy doesn't seem to mind, smiling at him politely. Tony wonders why on Earth would someone wear a teal blue sweater with Siamese cats on it to work, or at all, for that matter.

"What are you looking for?"

Tony studies the shop, it's red walls and fuzzy...well, everything. "Handcuffs," he finally spits out after a moment of awkward silence.

"Kinky, I like. We have a wide selection of cuffs, restraints, rope and silk ties this way," she says. "Follow me."

Tony's feet move on their own accord, and he idly wonders if he'll be able to follow through with this. If Tony is being completely honest with himself, the idea of Steve cuffing him to his bed is a little arousing. Actually, the idea is down right thrilling.

"We just got these babies, they're definitely my new favorite play thing," Amy says cheerfully, dangling a pair of metal cuffs. "They're smooth, adjustable, come with a set of keys and a safety release...we like all of our products to be safe. You can bleach them, or put them in the dish washer, top shelf obviously."

"Obviously."

"And they're great for role playing, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Will they dig in?" Tony finds himself asking as he studies the cuffs in his hands. They were nice looking, Tony admits, but he's still determined he could create something more ingenious.

"That's another thing I like about these, they come with a leather cover to protect your wrists. I've never had a issue with them before, and I'm finicky as hell when it comes to my play things," Amy confides, and Tony doesn't doubt her. "But if you'd like to take a look at our material cuffs, or the silk ties you're more than welcome to. Handcuffs aren't everyone's cup of tea," she adds, pushing her slopping wire frame glasses up her long, slender nose.

"I'll take them," Tony confirms.

"There you go, hope you and your partner get a lot of use out of these," Amy says, cleft chin dimpled as she smiles, handing Tony a discreet black bag with no visible label save a cursive S.

"Thanks," Tony mumbles, turning to see the elderly man from before.

"See ya got what ya wanted,huh lad?" he rasps, bushy eyebrows raised with humor. Tony takes in the old mans purchase, a riding crop, how fitting (and creepy).

"I see you did, too."

"Come on, Frank, let's see what you got this time," Amy calls out, Tony smiles thankfully in her wake.

"It's only till I get bored with it,"_ or die_, Tony thinks as he picks up his pace ambling for the large double doors.

Tony spends the next four hours attempting to work up enough courage needed in order to tell Steve, show him. Steve, his mostly vanilla counterpart, what would he think? Tony wonders if Steve would get his intent, or laugh at him. Tony over analyzes each scenario, eventually burning himself out entirely.

Tony decides to wait, working on countless projects in order to distract himself. The next morning, Tony wakes to a loud commotion coming from within his kitchen. Blue eyes take in his fellow Avengers helping themselves to his food.

"Did I miss something?" he questions, hands on his hips as he stands half naked in the entrance.

"You've been acting weird, so consider this a sort of intervention...except not," Clint states, shoving a handful of fruit-loops in to his mouth.

"You're idea of an intervention is to stand around in my kitchen at eight in the morning, eating my food? I've got to tell you guys, that's not the way it usually works."

"This french toast is the bomb, you should have some," Peter offers, mouth full as he speaks.

"Who made all of this?" Tony questions, slapping away Peter's hand as he points to various plates full of french toast, waffles, pancakes, fruit, eggs and bacon that are piling up.

"I did," Steve chirps from behind him, nearly giving Tony another heart attack. Tony finds it hard to scold when he sees Steve wearing the buxom bosom apron he bought three years ago as a joke, pancake batter smeared across his face. Tony notices that Steve's eyes appear a clear sort of blue today.

"You know what I need?" he says, the rest of the team peering curiously at him.

"What?" Jess asks, haphazardly wiping the milk she has spilled all over his counter.

"I need all of you, with the exception of Cap, to get the hell out of my house," he exclaims.

"Mouth," Steve warns, frowning.

"Sorry, but I mean it. I love that you all love me..."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Bub," Logan cuts in.

"_But _I need you all to leave...except Steve, Steve you stay."

"I'll have you know I walked here," Clint says as though Tony has just open handed him.

"You can swing with me," Peter offers with a wink. Clint looks as though he might vomit.

"No way," he snorts.

"What's so wrong with me?" Peter questions, arms extended outward with his palms face up.

"How about everything?" Jess deadpans.

"How about you not getting out of my house?" Tony adds.

"Nothing's wrong with you, Peter," Steve comforts, patting Peter on the back. "But Tony looks cranky, so you guys should go before he armors up."

"I'm cranky?" Tony questions incredulously. "_I'm _cranky."

"They're probably about to get it on anyway," Jess chirps, Peter plugging his fingers in to his ears to try and block the image out.

Thirty some odd minutes later, and Tony's kitchen is completely vacated save for Steve, who has made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. "Wait here," Tony says, moving to his bedroom before returning, cuffs behind his back.

This was a now or never sort of moment.

Tony takes the seat across from Steve as the other man looks at him over the top of Tony's week old newspaper. Steve no doubt knows that something is amiss here, but Tony merely smiles disarmingly. "Steve," he beckons, slow and focused.

"Yes, Tony?" Steve answers in much the same manner.

Tony doesn't verbally respond, instead he slides the metal cuffs across the old mahogany table. Steve peers down at them for a moment before flickering his gaze upward, questions in his eyes. "It's about trust, Steve," Tony mentions after a long moment of silence.

Steve coughs a bit, the tips of his ears burning red. Tony knew that this was a terrible idea, and wishes he hadn't gone through with it in the first place. "How, exactly?" Steve asks, and Tony goes over the details as fast and as painlessly as he can.

Steve shrugs his rather large shoulders after a minute. "Okay."

Tony is too busy staring up at the french toast that has somehow found itself attached to his ceiling to have possibly heard that correctly. Tony's head snaps downward, eyes wide. "Okay?"

"I mean, it's obviously important to you, and if it's important to you it's important to me, too. And if you really think it'll help, you know, with your issue, then that's even better."

Tony blinks once slowly, and then again. Tony was truly never convinced that Steve would ever agree to this, and now that he had, Tony doesn't know what to do. "I've got to be honest with you, Steve, I wasn't expecting you to be all right with this," Tony says, pausing for a moment. "I don't know where to go from here."

"I'm pretty sure you know how to get to your bedroom, Tony," Steve says, grinning as Tony scowls.

"You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean, but I also know that we have time together that we normally don't get."

Tony can't argue with that logic, really he can't. Tony stands to his feet, facilitated heat keeping him warm from the cold weather outside. Tony's body is on auto-pilot as he raises the ridiculous apron over Steve's head. Steve isn't even out of the kitchen yet, and already Tony has him stripped down to his briefs.

"If you don't start moving, I'm going to cuff you to the fridge," Steve cautions, mouth hot against Tony's ear. Tony's knees nearly buckle, and he has to adjust himself before carrying on towards the master bedroom. Steve may not be completely up to date when it comes to the sex of today—something Tony is strenuously working on—but his rough and tumble attitude, and raw sexual prowess more than makes up for that.

"How do we do this?" Steve queries, length stiff against the bend of Tony's hip, eyes patient.

"I've got a bed, and I've got a head board, that's a start." Tony thinks it's a good start, or at least he hopes so as he moves across the sheets, settling at the head of the bed. Tony's bed is a expensive piece from Italy; a modern platform colored in wenge and ebony lacquer. Two circular patterns are cut from the wooden slat, and Tony hopes it'll hold.

Tony inhales deeply as he moves to lay on his back, cock straining against his briefs. Tony is half amused by the fact his body appears more ready than he is. Steve stares down at him through long lashes, handcuffs twirling playfully in his hands.

"What now?" Steve questions, leaving it all in Tony's hands.

"Cuff me," Tony says lowly. Steve goes visibly rigid, obviously turned on by the current situation.

"Yes, sir," Steve responds, and the tone of his voice sends shivers down Tony's spine, igniting a rush of need throughout his body, but this isn't just about sex.

Tony needs to know that he can trust Steve, and so he urges the other man on. Steve straddles Tony's waist, weight distributed to his knees on either side of the mattress. Tony emits a small, almost panicked groan as his hands are cuffed above his head, arms intertwined.

Steve looks him straight in the eye, hands cradling the back of his neck as says, "I love you."

Tony licks his lips, the urge to bring Steve closer near overwhelming. Steve ruffles Tony's hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"You know that if I do something you're not comfortable with to just tell me and I'll stop, right?"

"Yeah, Steve."

"You trust that I'll stop?" Steve questions, and Tony troubles his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Yes," he confirms.

"Tell me what you want, Tony," he says, fingers dancing along his ribs. Tony shivers again, yearning for more contact. Tony sighs as Steve's hand trails up along his inner thigh, patiently awaiting his answer. Tony's back straightens, arms tensing slightly as he looks at Steve fairly serious.

"I want you to lose control."

"Tony..."

"You're always holding yourself back because of me...it's what I want," he determines. Tony's thought a lot about this since yesterday. "I _trust_ you."

Tony does trust Steve. In fact, Steve may be the only person he does trust. Steve grins at him, brushing their noses slightly together. "I can do that," he breathes heavily.

"You better, my arms are getting tired," Tony murmurs, stomach tensing as as Steve hand splays across his lower abdomen, trailing down but never touching him where he so desperately needs.

Steve moves off of the bed, sliding his briefs down in one tortuously slow movement. Tony's eyes linger on Steve's naked body, arms tugging downward uselessly. Steve throws him a knowing smile as he rummages through the small drawer attached to Tony's bed frame.

Steve places himself above Tony, cheeks slightly flushed. Tony can't find it within himself to speak, heart hammering in his chest as Steve lowers his head, mouth brushing against his own before moving lower. Steve's teeth skim over Tony's exposed throat, teasing the brunette afterward with a lazy stroke of his tongue to remove the initial sting.

Steve continues to make his way down Tony's body, hands never touching him. After a moment or two, Steve's hands finally grip Tony's hips to hold him still. "Stop," Steve commands, sending a jolt of lust reaming through Tony's body.

Tony does hold still eventually, breath uneasy as Steve's fingers dig into the flesh of his hips. Steve dips his head low, tongue trailing along the length of Tony's cock. A desperate whimper courses through Tony's lips, back arching as high as Steve will allow.

Tony's head collides against the headboard with a unceremonious thunk; Steve's tongue gliding up long the underside of his length. Steve's tongue is searing against his skin, mouth open and inviting him in. Tony yanks his arms down, leather and metal biting in to his skin, but not tearing.

Steve trails a single digit down towards Tony's opening, pressing slightly in. Tony's knees drop further apart, heels digging into the mattress as he releases a shuddering moan. Tony knows that he could tell Steve to stop, and that he would, but refrains.

Tony isn't fearful, just anxious about the whole ordeal. Tony's body is too hot, coupled with Steve's emitting heat, and it's damn near unbearable. Steve's mouth is securely wrapped around him, vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his limbs.

"Steve, please," Tony begs, not able to help himself. "Please."

Tony doesn't say what he's begging for, but Steve has a feeling he knows, adding a second finger to the first. Steve's fingers hook inside of him, spreading him open with a slow-building pressure. Steve loosens his suction, Tony's cock sliding out of his mouth in the filthiest manner Tony has ever seen.

"You're perfect. Jesus Christ, are you perfect," Tony rambles, losing all control of his mouth.

"Language," Steve warns for the second time this morning, adding a third finger to the mix. Steve pulls out about midway before driving back in with ten times as much force. Tony lets loose a slew of curses, halfheartedly apologizing before throwing out a string of other, more obscene words.

Steve silences Tony with a forceful kiss, hand still settled between Tony's thighs, rocking steadily in to him. Tony's lids slip shut as Steve finds that spot that makes his toes curl. Tony isn't sure he'll be able to last, not like this, with the torturous build-up Steve is relentlessly inflicting on him.

"Please, please. I won't last another second like this, Steve, want you." Steve's hand stalls for the first time, head tiling back, lips swollen and shoulders narrow, Tony has obviously struck a nerve somewhere.

"Please," he pants for good measure, a thrilling lick of lust erupting in the pit of his stomach at the look in Steve's eyes as they finally come in to focus. "Yes, Steve. Yes, come on."

Steve pulls back, eyes predatory as he raises Tony's legs up and around his waist as he settles himself between Tony's thighs. Tony keens somewhere deep in his throat, frustrated at not being able to hold himself open or feel the expanse of Steve's back as he enters his body, and Tony isn't use to not getting what he so desperately wants.

There are no words as Steve presses all the way in, hips rocking of their own accord. Tony's fingers curl around the leather casing, body raised off the bed with the help of Steve's strength. It takes the pressure off of his arms, and for that, Tony's thankful.

Steve's mouth is pressed against the mid of Tony's stomach, tongue trailing imaginary patterns Tony can't make out. Tony can't take himself in hand, and Steve has yet to touch him, continuing to move relentlessly inside of him. Tony bites down on the inside of his cheek, pressure building higher and higher within.

Tony opens his eyes, words hard to come by as he says, "Stop."

Steve comes to a complete halt, amazing blue eyes filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?" he asks worriedly. "Do you need me to get the key?"

Tony stares at him, laboring for breath as he takes in the fact that Steve did exactly as he said he would do. Tony grins sheepishly. "No, I'm okay. Fuck, keep going. I'm almost there," he says, wiggling his hips downward, but Steve doesn't move.

"You just told me to stop, there has to be a reason why you did," Steve says, holding Tony completely still. There will be bruises come nighttime, Tony notes, but he doesn't mind.

"I told you to stop to see if you would, and you did, so I'm fine," Tony says, but Steve's face tells him that the blonde doesn't believe him. "I just got a little anxious there for a moment, that's all. I'm okay now, promise. I'm still hard, aren't I?"

Steve repositions himself, pressing the release on Tony's cuffs and sliding out of him. "Steve, what are you doing?" Tony questions, arms falling numbly by his side. Steve sits on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees.

"I mind," he says, not looking at him. Tony's arms wrap around the bend of his knees, he's done something wrong. "I mind that you don't trust me," Steve adds, and things click in to place for Tony.

"Oh," he says, feeling like a real class act.

Steve looks at him over his shoulder. "I mind a lot of things you do, but I never want to push you in to doing things you aren't capable of," he says, voice firm but very quiet. "I just think this is one of those things."

"No," Tony says. "No. You can't do this to me, Steve," he says, moving from his spot on the bed to where Steve sits stoically. Tony's hand moves over the center of Steve's chest, other hand threading through his hair as he nuzzles his neck, eyes squeezing shut as he holds on to him.

"I do trust you. I trust you with everything. God, Steve, if anything you shouldn't trust me. I'm sorry. I do trust you, I do," Tony murmurs in to the warmth of his neck.

Steve stares at him for a moment, hand cradling his cheek before bringing him in for a soft kiss. Tony kisses back without hesitation, back hitting the mattress as Steve pushes him down, presses against him. Tony wraps his legs around the mid of Steve's waist, hands running freely wherever they wish to roam.

"I trust you," he murmurs, mouth seeking to capture Steve's again. Steve gives in to the pursuit, tongue tracing Tony's bottom lip as the smaller man groans in appreciation. Steve moves Tony's leg to rest higher up on his waist, heel digging in to the mid of his back as he studies Tony's face.

"It really isn't easy loving you, Tony, but I do," he says, thumb tracing Tony's bottom lip as the brunette stares up at him with mixed emotions. " A lot."

"Tell me what to do, Steve, and I'll do it," Tony offers, leaving himself vulnerable.

"I just want you to enjoy yourself," Steve says honestly.

Tony brings Steve down for another kiss as Steve once again enters his body, his pace is slow and steady, and Tony aches with every press, every stroke Steve has to offer. Tony's body bends to Steve's will, hands barely managing to hang on as he presses his mouth harshly against Steve's. The larger of the two is not holding back as he drives into Tony with much vigor, mind clear and focused on pushing Tony over the edge.

Tony's never seen Steve like this, has never _felt _him like this before. Tony can hardly breathe, can hardly even think as he comes in between both of their bodies. Tony's thoughts are a blur as his emotions mix around in uneven patterns.

Tony's body is sensitive, used as Steve continues to pound relentlessly into him. The feeling is overwhelming, and perfect. Tony attempts to catch his breath, thighs aching and sore as Steve finally finishes deep inside him.

Steve settles down next him, barely affected by their latest undoing. Tony, on the other hand, is completely and utterly spent. The whole room smells of sex and desire, anger and pent up emotions. Tony wonders if Steve is okay, he figures there's only one way to know.

"That was...that was amazing," he rasps, throat dry. "I think that was the best sex I've ever had."

"You think?" Steve questions, eyebrow raised as his chest rises even and slow.

"The best, period. You really didn't hold back, did you?"

Steve smiles. "Just a little," he admits.

"Jesus," Tony breathes, astounded.

Steve rests his arms under his head as Tony turns on to his side, molding his body next to his. The hand he places upon Steve's chest is shaking slightly, and Tony laughs a little at himself. "I was seriously worried that I broke us back there," he admits, kissing Steve's right shoulder.

Steve moves one of his arms from its current position, stroking through Tony's hair as their eyes linger on each other and nothing else. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere. I just don't want you going anywhere either, Tony," he says, and Tony finally understands. A man who deals in absolutes should understand.

"I'm not going anywhere. Wherever you're at, whatever you're doing, I'm right there with you. That goes for everything, hero related or not," he says, and he means it.

Steve grins, yawning sleepily as he stretches. "I'm gross, let's go take a shower."

Tony sits on the same bench he had a week prior, waiting for Steve per usual. How this had transformed into a habit of theirs, Tony doesn't know, but he isn't about to complain. Sadly, this is the highlight of most of his days.

Tony looks down at his watch, four o'clock was the agreed hour, but Steve is no where to be found. Tony frowns, Steve is hardly ever late. In fact, he tends to be on time while Tony is overdue, but Steve said he would be here, and Tony believes him.

"Hey," Steve calls out, nose and mouth hidden under a red scarf.

"I was worried you wouldn't show," Tony rouses, taking Steve's offered hand.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, Tony," Steve says as they begin their walk through of Central Park. The weather is still horrid, but they torture themselves anyway because it brings them closer.

"I know," Tony states as they stop near a frozen pond, lone duck still there. Tony doesn't understand why this one chose to stay instead of heading down south like its smarter counterparts. Tony has no sympathy for him, really he doesn't, he shouldn't be here while it's freezing, but he pulls out a stale piece of bagel anyway.

"You like the duck, don't you?" Steve questions, nudging Tony in the ribs with his elbow.

"No."

"You do, too. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Steve promises, warming Tony's bare hands with his gloved ones.

"I know."

Tony Stark doesn't trust easily, or at all for that matter, but he trusts Steve.


End file.
